I'll tell me ma when I get home
The boys won't leave the girls alone
Pulled me hair, stole me comb
But that's all right till I go home
She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the belle of Dublin city
She is a-courtin' a-one, two, three
Pray can you tell me, who is she?
Albert Mooney says he loves her
All the boys are fighting for her
Knock on the door, they ring on the bell
And oh, me true love, are you well!
Out she comes, white as snow
Rings on her fingers, bells on her toes
Old Johnny Morrisey says she'll die
If she doesn't get the fellow with the roving eye.
Let the wind and the rain and the hail blow high
And the snow come travelling through the sky
She's as sweet as apple pie
She'll get her own lad by and by
When she gets a lad of her own
She won't tell her ma when she gets home
Let them all come as they will
It's Albert Mooney she loves still.